ar lady?" interrupted Hector. "I know all
about the subject. I had to buy forty-seven at Monte Carlo, and see them
all tried on, too--and only lately! Do ask Marie to open that door a
little wider; I will decide in a minute how it should be."

"Insolent!" said the widow, who spoke French with perfect fluency and a
quite marvellously pure American accent. But she permitted the giggling
and beaming Marie to open the door wide, and let Hector advance and kiss
her hand.

He then took a chair by the dressing-table and inspected the situation.

Seven or eight dainty bandboxes strewed the floor, some of their
contents peeping from them--feathers, aigrettes, flowers, impossible
birds--all had their place, and on the sofa were three _chef
d'oeuvres_ ruthlessly tossed aside. While in the widow's fair hands
was a gem of gray tulle and the most expensive feather heart of woman
could desire.

"You see," she said, plaintively, "it is meant to go just so," and she
placed it once more upon her head, a handsome head of forty-five, fresh
and well preserved and comely. "But the vile-tempered thing refuses to
stay there once I let go, and no pin will correct it."

"Base ingratitude," said Lord Bracondale, with feeling; "but couldn't
you stuff these in the hiatus," and he tenderly lifted a bunch of
nut-brown curls from the dressing-table. "They would fill up the gap and
keep the fractious thing steady."

"Of course they would," said Mrs. McBride; "but I have a rooted
objection to auxiliary nature trimmings. That bunch was sent with the
hat, and Marie has been trying to persuade me to wear it ever since we
began this struggle. But I won't! My hair's my own, and I don't mean to
have any one else's alongside of it. There is my trouble."

"If milor were to hold madame's 'at one side, while I de other, madame
might force her emerald parrot pin through him," suggested Marie, which
advice was followed, and the widow beamed with satisfaction at the
gratifying result.

"There!" she exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, "that will do; and I am
just ready. Gloves, handkerchief--oh! and my purse, Marie." And in five
minutes more she was leading the way back into her sitting-room.

"I have not ordered lunch until one o'clock," she said, "so we have
oceans of time to talk and tell each other secrets. Sit down, jeune
homme, and confess to me." She pointed to a _bergere_, but it was filled
with Italian embroideries. "Marie, take this rubbish away!" s